


Leftover

by NotRoyalty



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, PTSD, Season 2 spoilers, fluffy mush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:42:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotRoyalty/pseuds/NotRoyalty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two times Felicity stays with Oliver because of his demons, and the one time Oliver is there for Felicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thunderstorm

Felicity always loved thunderstorms. Well, not always. There was that time when she was very young that she was scared of them, but then every kid is afraid of thunderstorms for at least a little while. Felicity liked to think that she got over the fear a little sooner than most. She didn't know the average age that children stopped being afraid of thunderstorms, though, so she wasn't sure. 

Regardless, she loved them now, so when she saw the telltale, target-like mark on the radar, she smiled a little before turning back to tinkering at tracking A.R.G.U.S's movements. She knew it was a bit of a wild goose chase, but she felt like she had to at least try. 

"There's a thunderstorm on the way," she said, pointing at the radar image when Oliver glanced over her shoulder in passing.

"Anything else?" he asked, leaning on the back of her chair.

"Nope," Felicity replied, leaning back so she could look up at him upside down. "The criminal classes have been extremely quiet since we stopped Slade," she finished, leaning back to the keyboard.  
Oliver said nothing, just pushed off the wall and moved over to the case where he kept the bow. "Take the night off, then," he said, taking his bow out. "You deserve it."

"Thanks," she said, her ponytail waving happily. "I'll just finish this first..." she dwindled, frantically coding her way away from A.R.G.U.S's counterattack. 

Oliver cast her one last look before bouncing a tennis ball and knocking an arrow to shoot it offhandedly. 

Thunder was just beginning to sound in the distance when Felicity finally booted down the computers. Felicity frowned as the feeling that something was wrong followed her up the stairs and into Verdant. It hit her when she was standing by the bar. 

Oliver was shooting tennis balls. 

Oliver didn't shoot tennis balls unless he was trying to keep his mind off something he was upset about. But what could possibly be upsetting Oliver on this quiet night?

Yes, Felicity conceded, his mother had just died, and his sister had left the city, but that was long enough ago that he wouldn't be using the tennis balls to avoid it. She had spent enough time in that basement to know that Oliver only shot tennis balls when he was trying to avoid something that would disappear with time. 

The answer came to Felicity in a roll of thunder. 

Oliver had PTSD. That, she knew. To be frank, she was surprised that he didn't have it much worse. It spoke a testament to his strength of character that all he had endured hadn't left him a quivering mess. Felicity knew that's what it would have done to her. 

Turning around, she marched back down to the lair. 

"Did you forget something?" Oliver asked, turning when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Do you want to go see that new X-Men movie?" she asked abruptly, saying the first movie that came to mind.

"What?" he said, confused.

"It got great reviews," she said, "and you'd probably still understand it fine despite the fact that I'm nearly certain you haven't seen any of the previous movies."

"What is this about, Felicity?" he asked, moving closer with his concerned expression.

She paused. "I'm not used to having time off," she said, throwing up her arms. "And I was planing to go see it anyway, but then I thought, 'oh, if I have the night off, Oliver must too,' so I figured that you, like me, would have nothing to do, so I thought hey! the movies are always more fun when someone goes with you."

Oliver's expression softened when he realized what she was trying to do, despite the fact that she hadn't said so.

"I actually have seen a few X-Men movies," he said with that almost smile he did sometimes. 

"Great!" she said, smiling. "But you're buying the popcorn."


	2. Boats

"Ok," Felicity said, turning to face Oliver. "Your offices in Florida obviously didn't think of the fact that the last time you were on a yacht you got shipwrecked."

Oliver pursed his lips, looking up at the boat. "I've been on a lot of boats, Felicity," he said with a little smile. "It's fine."

Felicity had to admit she liked the yacht. It was the very manifestation of Queen Consolidated's wealth with the wood paneling and private rooms that smelled of the sea and sandalwood. Not to mention that she found a note on her pillow with the wifi password. She suspected that Oliver had gotten that for her after her declaration of not mingling with his co-workers as his executive assistant unless he made sure she had wifi. 

Oliver did not like boats of any kind. He had too many bad experiences to ever like them again, but Queen Consolidated needed him here. Not to mention how excited Felicity was about being able to go out on a yacht for the first time. The look on her face was almost worth it when she found the underwater window.

To be frank, Felicity was the only thing about this infernal boat trip he liked, and he know that she'd much rather be on a beach than having to mingle with executives. The least he could do was make sure the crew got her internet access. 

Despite all that, he still had to speak to the people there and pretend that he was enjoying himself. He didn't actually see Felicity until the sun was fleeing to the horizon.

She was speaking to a man with a beer, the orangey sunlight lighting up  her bright blue dress and her sunny hair, and Oliver wished that he could somehow absorb some of the light happiness that seemed to come so easily to her. 

She turned and looked towards him for a moment with a little smile before holding her hand out to the man to say something. Oliver turned back to the bar, ordering a whiskey. 

"You have to admit," came her voice, and Oliver turned to see her arriving next to him, "that sunset is killer," she nodded over the rail. "Red wine, please," she said to the bartender.

"There weren't many sunsets on the island," Oliver found himself saying. "It was too mountain-y"

"Mountainous," Felicity said automatically. "That's the word," she smiled, taking a sip of her red wine. 

"Yeah," Oliver replied, staring out at the sunset. 

* * *

Felicity worried about Oliver. She did that a lot, but this time it wasn't the guns or the jumping off buildings. He looked miserable. The executives were starting to retire, but he still stood there, looking out at where the sun had disappeared as if staring hard enough would make it come back up again. 

A breeze had picked up, tossing her hair around her shoulders, and chasing the remaining executives below decks. It wasn't until the crew was cleaning up that Felicity realized that Oliver wasn't going to leave unless she made him.

"Oliver," she said, touching his shoulder, which made him jump like she'd electrocuted him. "Everyone's gone," she said. "We should, too."

He nodded, letting her lead him down the stairs to the belly of the ship until, there in the hall, he stopped.

Turning, Felicity looked at him with an open expression for a long moment before reaching out and taking his sweaty hand.

"People will talk," he said when she lead him into her room.

She poked her head out the door again and looked up and down. "I don't see any," she said, pulling her head back in and closing the door. 

Oliver turned away and stared at the painting on the wall. 

"If you want to go back to shore," Felicity said in a small voice, "I'm sure they'll take us back. You are the CEO after all."

"I'm fine," he said, turning from the painting.

"And I'm iron man," Felicity said, not missing a beat. 

Oliver made a noise in the back of his throat and rubbed at his chest. 

Rolling her eyes, Felicity kicked off her shoes and jumped onto the bed. "I'm not going to make you talk about it," she said, digging in her bag, "so we're going to play poker. The clothed kind."

Turning to her, Oliver raised his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting there's another kind?" he asked.

"You must have played strip poker at least once," Felicity said, looking up from the cards she was shuffling. "You're Oliver Queen."

He shrugged, sitting down across from her, "Have you?" he asked.

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "The only boyfriend I had who knew how to play poker refused to do it after he found out I could count cards."

"His loss," Oliver said.

Felicity stopped in the middle of shuffling and looked at him over her glasses, pale pink lips parted for just a second before she finished shuffling. "I can teach you," she said, dealing. "How to count cards, I mean, not play strip poker (which is ridiculously easy to learn so I wouldn't need to teach you even if you had never played it before."

"I was never that good at math," he countered.

"Then I guess you'll just have to settle with me winning," she said, sneaking a look at him. 

There was a short silence as Felicity finished shuffling the cards. 

"Thank you," Oliver said softly, putting one of his hands over her.

"For offering to teach you how to count cards?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"For being there for me," he said, and her features softened.

"That's what I'm here for," she said softly.

"And offering to teach me strip poker."

She made him play 52 card pick-up for that. 

 


	3. This Time is For Felicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is finally the one staying with Felicity.

Oliver knew something was wrong the moment Felicity walked into the lair. Maybe it was the set of her shoulders, or the precise way she sat down and braced her arms against the edge of her desk, or the way she didn't say hello, but he knew.

He watched for a moment as she just sat there, staring blankly at the computer screens. Then moving as if any sudden movements would break something, she put her hands on the keyboard. 

"Felicity," he said, setting down the arrow, and she jerked her hands off the keyboard like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Yes?" she said in a low voice as Oliver got up and walked around to face her. 

"What," he said, looking down at her blank expression, "is wrong."

"My cat," she said in the same low voice, and her chin trembled for a second, but she took a deep breath and continued steadily, "died."

Oliver was silent, looking down at her as she continued to stare right through the computers.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually.

"I'm being stupid, I'm sorry," she babbled, getting up, "I shouldn't have come back here. There's nothing to do. It's just that he was just sitting there," her voice went up an octave, "dead, and I didn't take care of it. He's still there, on my floor," her voice broke and she took another deep breath. 

"Felicity," he said, taking her arm, and turning her around to see the tears falling onto her blouse despite her ridged jaw. 

Her chin started trembling in ernest and he wrapped his arms around her, letting her head rest against his chest. "I can text Diggle, and he'll take care of your cat."

"No," she said, starting to pull away, "I shouldn't let Diggle take care of it," she closed her eyes, "he's my responsibility."

"Felicity," he said again, taking her shoulders in his hands. "It's fine."

Two more tears spilled from her eyes and let her head fall back on his shoulder. "Thank you," she said. 

"It's the least I can do," he said, putting a hand on her hair. "You've been there for me more times than I can count," he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her hair. 

 


End file.
